Poor Jenny
by MPettigrew
Summary: While Johnny and Ponyboy hide out at the church, Janet tells of what goes on back in Tulsa.
1. Thursday

Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders or any of it's characters. Only Janet, and possibly some others in the future.

A/N: Hey. I just want to point out that anytime something appears between double hyphens, like this --blank-- it means that it is something that has been scratched out. I can't actually do the embedded line font on here, so I hope that everyone can follow what I mean by this. Thanks and enjoy!

**Thursday September 8h, 1966**

I hate having to start a new journal but the old one got filled up so fast that I have to use this one. It's like starting over again, only not the good starting over but instead the kind where you have to think of what you're going to say all over again, because there's no picking up where you left off. It's not like I have anything important to say. It's just that I don't have any friends to talk about. Actually that's not true. I have a few friends, I just choose not to talk to them outside of school. They're a waste of time anyway. Yesterday they started smoking. What do I care about smoking? People who smoke so that they can "try" to be cool are the biggest nerds of all. Besides, I'm really only friends with them so that I have people to talk to at school.

The people I really want to be friends with I'm not even allowed to be around. Keith said so. Everybody else calls him Two-Bit but since he won't call me Jenny then I'm not going to call him Two-Bit. I tried to tell him that Jenny is a nickname for Janet but he just laughed.

"It's not nickname if it's as long as your own."

"Two-Bit is longer than Keith!"

"You didn't let me finish," he said. "It's not a nickname if it's as long as your own AND if you make it up yourself."

Except that I didn't really make it up. But I'll get back to that later. What I wanted to say is that I'm not allowed to be friends with the people that I want to. All because they're Keith's friends too. I told him that I don't care about that but he says that he does. Just because I'm twelve. Well, Ponyboy is only two years older than me and he gets to be part of their gang, and guess what? It's only because his brothers are in it, not because they really want him around. I wish I could tell him that too. He acts like he's so cool just because he gets to be one of their friends when they probably don't even like him. Maybe Keith likes him, but he likes almost everybody. Even some of his teachers I think. Who likes their teachers? Who likes teachers who _fail_ them? I know I'm adopted, I just know it. I used to think my brother was joking when he told me that but now I'm sure of it. How else can it be that he likes practically everybody he meets while I wish they would all drop dead. Okay, maybe not everybody, but it would be nice if a good chunk of them just jumped into a lake and never climbed back out.

Anyway, back to why I'm angry at Keith in the first place. See, Jenny's kind of my alter ego. I just learned about alter egos from a girl in my class and decided that I need one. I love this song "Poor Jenny" by The Everly Brothers. It's about this boy who goes to a party with a girl and then she gets into a fight. She gets put in jail, not because she was fighting but because she's the leader of a gang. Part of the song says something about her having a brother who's hot on the guys trail and how her dad wants to run him out of town. Maybe I don't have a dad but I do have a brother. Not that he would ever go after anybody for me, but that's not the point. When I'm older I want to have my own gang, and only girls can be in it. We can have boyfriends of course, but girls will run it. But anyway, Jenny is a nickname from Janet so I don't see why people can't just call me that. Janet is so boring. Not cute at all.

I have to go. Mom just got home and I know she's going to ask me why I didn't bother cleaning the kitchen. I didn't clean it because I didn't make the mess. She never asks Keith to clean. And she never gets mad when he doesn't. Maybe I'll just run away.

****

LATER

Keith came home and told me that Ponyboy Curtis got jumped today by a bunch of rich kids. I laughed. He didn't find it funny but honestly how stupid do you have to be to walk home alone when you know that there are people out to make your life hell? I really don't understand why they let him hang around. He's probably not even a good fighter. I've never actually seen him get into a fight, but then again I've never seen his brother Darry get into one either but I'm pretty sure he'd win. I don't mind Darry. He's really old but I've heard that he's given Ponyboy a hard time about things so that makes him alright by me. I do feel bad for them that their parents died but I can't feel sorry for them forever.

I guess one of the people who jumped Ponyboy actually tried to cut him. I don't know why all the fun stuff happens to him. He got to skip a grade. How fair is that? I'm twice as smart as him but they wont let me skip. And he gets to live alone with just his brothers. I love my mom but I bet if it was just my brother and me that this house would be a big party all the time. That's another thing. I bet Ponyboy gets to got to parties and stuff with them. I've never been to anything like that and from the looks of it I never will either. My mom seems to think that I'm two and not twelve. It's fine to tell me how old I am when she thinks that I need to be more responsible but when I want to do something fun she tells me that I'm too young for it. And then she's always telling me that ladies to this and ladies to that. "Proper ladies don't sprawl out on the couch like that, Janet," or "Proper ladies don't hunch their backs" and blah blah blah. What do I care if I'm a proper lady? I haven't seen many of them around here. I'm twice the lady now than half of the girls in this place will ever be with their dyed hair and short skirts.

It's not like Mom would ever let me dye my hair anyway. She's always going on and on about how pretty is, not really dark brown but not dark red either. Auburn is what she calls it. I think I would be best as a blonde though. I saw a magazine from England the other day with a girl with her hair bleached so much it almost looks white, and it's short, to about her chin. Mom says that's a bob. She also says I can't get one. I don't see why she cares what I do with MY hair. I wonder what she would do if I cut it off and dyed it. Probably make me shave my head just to teach me a lesson.

Well I don't care what she thinks. Maybe I will dye my hair, just to tick her off. She never has anything bad to say when --Two-Bit-- Keith does something wrong or that she really shouldn't like. Why am I any different? Tomorrow I'm going to look into hair dye. Maybe see how much it will cost to get my hair cut. I've got a couple of dollars hidden in my secret spot. I would say where that is but I don't trust my brother not to come snooping in here and then taking my money. He's done both before. He picks up my diary and reads it anytime he finds it lying around (which is why it's NEVER lying around anymore) and afterwards he always has something to say to me about it. He took money from me a couple of times too. Maybe just a dollar or so, but it's still a lot easier for him to make money since he's eighteen and can get a job than it is for me. I should be the one taking money from him. I'm the kid sister.


	2. Friday

****

Friday September 9th, 1966

I talked to Cindy Forester today about dying my hair. She said her cousin used to use peroxide to bleach hers. Where the hell am I going to get my hands on peroxide? I wont be finding any of it around this house. I think we're down to half a bar of soap. I told Mom this morning that we're about out and she snapped at me, asking why I hadn't told her earlier.

"I didn't know earlier. How can I tell you something I don't know?"

She made some remark about not getting smart with her, but what else am I supposed to do. My brother is always making some smart-alecky comment and all she ever does is laugh at him. The only time she ever tells him to stop is when he's making her laugh so hard that it starts to hurt. I never make her laugh. And I can be funny too.

I'm about ready to run away from home. There is nothing to do here, and this place is such a mess that I don't think I can handle another minute here. Maybe I'll go out for a walk. Try to find some peroxide or something.

****

LATER

The weirdest thing just happened. I was on my way home from my walk when I walked passed my brother's friend Johnny. I think he's about fifteen, but he's small. Maybe just a taller than me, but small. But anyway, normally when I pass by my brother's friends I feel shy all of a sudden and end up looking down as I go by or sit there like a lump trying not to look like an absolute goof. Well, when I walked by Johnny today I decided that I would try to be friendly, just to see if I can do it without smiling like a maniac. I don't even LIKE this one, but it doesn't matter which one of --Two-Bi-- Keith's friends that I'm around. I can't help but giggle at any of them. Unless of course it's Ponyboy. Then I couldn't care less. In fact I think I glare at him more than anything else. When I passed by Johnny though, I actually smiled a bit and even said hi. He just said nodded and kept walking. He might have said something to me very quietly, but if he did I didn't catch it. I don't understand what is wrong with that guy. Why couldn't he just say hi back? What did I ever do to him? In a perfect world he would have been afraid to say anything to me because my brother has warned him about going near me. This is a FAR from perfect world.

So I met up with Cindy at the store. I actually decided to call her before I left so that she could come and help me find some peroxide. We found it at the drugstore down out towards downtown. I have an issue with that too, but I'll explain that one in a bit. Anyway Cindy showed me exactly what I need to buy. It doesn't seem like much of a problem for me except for the fact that a bottle costs more than I thought. Where am I supposed to get money for peroxide when I'm saving up for a haircut? Cindy offered to cut my hair for me but I said no thanks. She cut her sister's hair once last spring. Her mom is afraid to let her near the scissors again. Imagine that, a seventh grader who isn't allowed to use the scissors at home without supervision. If that was me I would take the first chance I got and stab myself to death with them. I wonder if it's possible to do that, stab yourself to death I mean. Wouldn't it hurt too much after one stab to continue? And if you hit the wrong place then you would live AND be in a ton of pain. No thank you.

Cindy did tell me that she knows how to dye hair too. I'm not sure I want her doing that. Maybe I'll just get her to tell me what you do and then do it myself before she has the chance to beg. Cindy is like that. If you tell her no she'll just show up at your locker the next morning and tell you that she's doing it anyway. It drives me crazy. Once I told her that I didn't want to be partners with her for a science project. When I got home from school that day she was waiting on my front steps to plan it with me. I guess she is the closest thing that I have to a best friend (the kind you only hang out with once a month), but I don't think it's normal for me to want my best friend disappear. Not die, that would be too much, but just disappear until we get to high school. By then she would be so popular for being the missing girl that she wouldn't want to have anything to do with me. And I would be FINE with that.

Mom just got home. Came in and asked if I'm hungry. I said no. She didn't seem to like that answer.

"Well would you at least like help me make dinner, please?"

"Why? I'm not the one eating."

"Janet," she sighed. "I'm not kidding you. One day soon that mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble." She's not kidding. I already got sent out into the hall twice this week in English class, once because I kept "talking out of turn" (ugh) and another time for talking back to the teacher. But I wasn't even talking back to her, I just hadn't heard what she'd said to me. It doesn't really matter though since none of my teachers really care when I get sent out into the hall. I had some of the highest grades in my class last year and I'm doing even better this year (at least I think) so nobody ever sends notes home or anything. Even if they did I would probably just forge a signature. Not that I've ever done that before, but that doesn't mean I couldn't figure out how.

Honestly I don't know what my mom's problem is. She gets mad at me for the most idiotic things. I mean I keep my room clean (when I can) and I do my homework. I get good grades and stay out of trouble (or at least she thinks). I wouldn't talk back to her if she'd quit nagging at me all of the time, and she wouldn't have to complain about the state of the house if she and my brother cleaned up after themselves in the first place.

She just left for her second shift but came in to tell me that there is supper on the counter if I want it. Maybe if she spent some time at home instead of working every hour of the day we might actually get along some. I don't see why she works so much anyhow. We've got hardly any money as it is. I don't even care though. Now that she's gone I'm going to get something to eat.

Oh yeah! Before I eat I forgot to mention what my problem is with downtown. See, I'm a twelve-year-old girl and I'm allowed downtown whenever I want, alone or with a friend. But Ponyboy Curtis is a fourteen-year-old BOY and he has to have somebody holding his hand anytime he wants to go anywhere out of the neighborhood. Why doesn't anybody care if I get hurt down there? Sometimes I even wish the Socs would jump me. Okay, I almost ALWAYS wish the Socs would jump me.

****

MUCH LATER

My brother was hilarious tonight. He came home from the movies, or wherever he was, and I swear he was drunk. He said he wasn't but I'm pretty sure I could smell it on his breath. He was being all friendly to me and dancing around the living room to the music playing on the TV. Some commercial, I don't even remember what it was for but he was singing the little jingle forever. Only he didn't actually know the words so he just kept repeating "Do not despair, do not despair," over and over until I though I was going to wet my pants. Then he started talking about the word despair.

"What does it mean anyway? Despair?"

"I think it means that you're giving up," I explained.

"Do not despair," he sang. "Do not give up. No. That doesn't sound right."

"Maybe it means to worry."

He stared at me for a long second before nodding a couple of times. "That sounds right. But only if you say 'not' before you say 'despair'. Because if you said 'do despair' it just wouldn't sound right."

"No," I agreed, "but you could be in despair."

"Like, 'I am in despair because my car is broken down' kind of thing."

"Sure," I guessed. I had no more of a clue than he did.

"You know something Janet," he said a couple of minutes later as he watched the TV. "You're really smart."

"They keep telling me that," I grumbled.

"No but really, you're a smart kid. You could do something with that." His eyes got all wide with excitement. "You could be a teacher!"

I snorted. "Not a chance."

"No just listen! You could be a cool teacher. The kind everybody likes. The one that doesn't give homework and stuff. Of course you're a girl so you'll never be THAT cool, but you could still-"

"What does being a girl have to do with how cool I am."

"Well girls are never as cool as boys."

"So you don't like girls now?"

"Oh no I like girls more than anything else in the world but I'm just saying that for some reason people always think guys are cooler. Especially teachers."

"That's not true."

"Name one girl that's cooler than any guy you know."

I thought about that for a minute. I couldn't come up with anybody, but I'll find somebody sooner or later. It didn't matter to Keith though. He changed the subject pretty soon anyway.

"You ever been skinny dipping?"

"Me?"

"Yeah you."

"No, why?"

"I was just wondering."

"Wondering if your sister's ever been skinny dipping?"

"No. I was just thinking that I've never been skinny dipping."

"You've never done a lot of things."

"That is true." He sat there for a while, staring off into space like he was thinking real deep about something. After awhile he turned to me again. "It would have been pretty pathetic if you'd already gone skinny dipping, and you're only eleven."

"I'm twelve," I reminded him. I'm always reminding him.

"Same thing."

"It is not."

"When you're my age it's the same thing." Like he's some old man or something.

I had to try him though, and asked if twelve is the same thing as thirteen.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because thirteen means you're a teenager. It's different thing completely."

"Then thirteen is the same as fourteen."

"I guess, but it's not when you want to be fourteen just so you can hang out with my friends."

"Why can't I hang out with you?"

"Because you're a girl. How many girls do you see in our gang?"

"You always have girls around!"

"Oh sure, but those are just girlfriends. It's different."

"So I'll just go out with one of your friends."

"Ha! The only one you'll ever be old enough to date is Ponyboy and I know how you feel about him."

"I would date him if it meant I got to hang out with-"

He cut me off with a big laugh. "Sure. You go ahead and date Pony. Have fun. Two of you wouldn't know your heads from your asses, and then some!"

"You're not as funny as you think you are."

"Sure I am."

We ended up sitting around watching TV for awhile so I decided to sneak off to my room for a bit to write this. It's not much, but maybe when I'm older I'll look back and laugh. It would be funnier if I actually remembered half the stuff he said properly, but maybe it will come to me later. Anyway even if it

****

LATERER

I can't remember what I was writing there but anyway it doesn't matter. The phone was ringing and my brother wasn't getting it so I ran out to the living room to see why. He was laying on the couch, his head right next to the table where the phone is, with his eyes closed while he smiled to himself.

"Get that, will you?" he asked me.

"Why don't you? You're right there."

"You're up."

I reached behind the sofa and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

It was a deep voice asking, "Is Ponyboy there?"

"You got the wrong number." Now I'm taking Ponyboy's phone calls too? At my house even!

"Can I talk to Two-Bit?"

"Yeah one sec." I held the phone away from my ear. "Two-Bit it's your boyfriend."

He smiled even wider, still keeping his eyes closed. "Umm, which one?"

I dropped the phone on his head and left the room. I can never joke with him. He's too fast for me.

He came into my room a couple of minutes later and asked if I had seen Ponyboy. Why would I have seen him? I guess he figures I've been sneaking out to spy on him while everyone else is asleep. Maybe that's what I should do now, get some sleep I mean. I don't want to spy on anybody. I probably wont be as grumpy in the morning if I go to bed now.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	3. Saturday

****

Saturday September 10th, 1966

I woke up pretty late this morning. Keith had some really interesting news for me. Ponyboy ran away from home. I guess last night it was his brother calling here looking for him but he didn't end up coming home for three hours or something. When he did get home Darry hit him. I guess it was just a slap or something like that, but anyway he ran away because of it. That's not the interesting part though. After he ran away he met up with Johnny. Some Socs showed up and I guess they got into a fight, but anyway all Two-Bit would tell me is that they killed one of them. I think he heard it from one of the Curtis boys this morning, but anyway both Pony and Johnny ran away and nobody seems to know where they disappeared to. Now I wonder which one did it. Johnny doesn't seem like the type to kill a kid, but then neither does Ponyboy, not really. Part of me doesn't even think it's true, like this isn't really happening, but another part of me thinks that those Socs had it coming. Maybe they've never bugged me personally but they sure do give the greasers a hard time. Not that I'm a greaser or anything, but still, my brother is one and I know the troubles he has had with them before. I almost hope that this is just a joke. I can't stand Ponyboy but I do like his brothers and I don't want them to have any trouble because of this. I don't understand why everybody has to fight all the time. If you can't get along then just stay out of each other's way. I mean really.

****

AFTER SUPPER

Two-Bit came home for awhile this afternoon. He was sitting out front when his friend Dally showed up. I was sitting near the front window but he doesn't know that. I just wanted to hear what is going on.

"How's it going?" Dally asked, and I wondered how a guy could sound so calm when two of his friends (okay, a friend and a friend's kid brother) were in so much trouble. He's a strange guy though, Dally I mean. I can't really tell what it is about him, but for some reason he is probably one of the scariest guys I have ever seen. And not scary like Darry Curtis with his big muscles, and not because of the way he dresses, but just because he is scary. Maybe a little bit crazy behind the eyes. Like I could never really know what is going on in his head.

"You hear about what happened last night?" my brother asked him.

"Yeah, I just came from their house."

"I heard that Johnny's the one who did it."

"Me too."

"I sure am worried about them though. What do you think happened to them?"

It was quiet.

"What if they got hurt?" Keith spoke up again. "Last night after the movies we had a run in with a couple of Socs. I'm sure it was the same ones that caught up with them last night. What if after Johnny stabbed that one they did something to Ponyboy and Johnny. What if they killed them or dumped their bodies somewhere?"

"And then went to the police?" Dally half laughed. "Nobody kills two kids and then goes running to the police about it. Not unless they want to get caught."

"Where do you think they are then?"

"Who knows."

They got quiet again. Keith said, "You know where they are, don't you."

"I don't know nothing'."

"No, you know where they are. That's why you're so calm. Where are they?"

"I said I don't know."

"Come on man you can tell me. I just want to know that they're safe."

"They're safe."

"So you do know where they are!"

"Probably halfway to Texas by now." He said this like it was a joke. I don't really think it's that funny though. Johnny actually killed somebody. I don't know what I would do with myself if I ever killed somebody. I don't know that I could ever kill somebody anyway. I guess I never though I would ever know anybody who could actually kill. Well, that's not true really, because I've seen my brother get really angry enough times to know that he could maybe kill somebody if he lost all control. He's strange that way. He is usually pretty happy-go-lucky, but sometimes he gets this look in his eyes like he's got some real big ideas. It'll be funny one day if he turns out to really be some genius who is only behind so many grades in school because he actually wants to enjoy life and the people around him, or whatever it is that secret geniuses do. It's not like I think he's stupid or anything, it's just that sometimes I'm not even sure what it is that he's going on about. Like a couple of days ago when he was asking me who I though invented the balloon. How should I know? And he had a whole bunch of ideas on it too, like how maybe it was some man who accidentally made a balloon when he really wanted a plastic cup. I told him that I don't think balloons are made of plastic but he just got annoyed and told me not to ruin it for him. Then he went on to talking about where condoms come from, but I don't think I was supposed to hear that part.

****

LATER

I've been thinking about it for a bit and I realized that it's all Ponyboy's fault that everything happened. Okay maybe Johnny was the one who killed the Soc but if Ponyboy hadn't run away in the first place then there would be nothing to worry about. He really is a little pansy. Who runs away just because their brother slaps them? Heck my brother has given me a couple of good smacks here and there. Even threatened to take his belt to me a few times (he was joking a couple of them though, I'm pretty sure). If Ponyboy hadn't been such a baby though and run away then they never would have gone to the park, and they never would have seen those guys, and they wouldn't have to be hiding somewhere right now. And with a guy like Dally being the only person who might know where they are they'd have a better chance of getting away with it if they stood outside the police station with a sign that said "I KILLED HIM".

Maybe Dally doesn't even know where they are though. Maybe he was just kidding my brother. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to kid, but what to I know. I never get to talk to him. I never get to talk to anybody cool. I'll have to have a really interesting job when I'm older so that I can meet all sorts of interesting people. I could be a movie star or a singer, 'cept that I can't act to save my life and people would rather cut my tongue out than hear me sing. I could maybe be a writer, but the problem is that I don't have anything interesting to write about. Even with what's going on right now with a boy being killed in our neighbourhood, yes am here for it, but even that story belongs to Ponyboy Curtis. Why does he get all the fun? I'll bet he's just loving Texas.

****

IN BED, AFTER DARK

Cindy called a little while ago. Nobody else was home so I could talk without any interruption. I guess news about that Soc has really gotten around. When she heard who it was she called me to ask about it.

"I don't really know much," I lied. Maybe I know some, but that doesn't mean I have to share. If I tell her anything then she's only going to tell everybody she knows. If word gets back to my brother he'll know it was me, because Dally clearly isn't saying anything. Maybe he wont care but I can never be too sure.

Cindy must have asked me a million questions about it. Did I know who died? Had I ever seen him before? Which one had done it? Where are they now? I kept telling her I don't know but she doesn't believe me. We're meeting tomorrow morning to talk about it. It will be harder lying to her to her face but hopefully I'll do okay.


	4. Sunday

**Sunday September 11th, 1966**

Well I met up with Cindy today. She brought two girls from school with her. I don't remember their names but I know that one is a year ahead of us in school and the other is a year behind. I was a little bit surprised to see them there but I know that I shouldn't have been, not when it's Cindy I'm dealing with. We were going to head over to the park to see if we could find the place that Johnny killed the guy but the younger girl said her mom had told her she isn't allowed to go there. And because she actually listens to what her mom says we had to go and sit on Cindy's front porch and whisper about everything so that her parents didn't hear.

"So," they wanted to know, "which one did it?"

"I don't know any more than you do."

"Well who do you think it was?"

"I can't tell. I hardly even know them."

"Well you know them better than we do," the older girl said. "Who seems like they could kill somebody?"

"Neither of them. They're really quiet. I wouldn't know."

Cindy and the older girl looked at each other like they understood something. I had to ask what was going on.

"It's just that the quiet ones always go bad." The older girl said this and Cindy nodded along, but I don't know where they got that idea from. Cindy's the biggest loudmouth I know - second biggest - and she's not exactly a good girl. She's not out stealing or getting into fights with switchblades or anything like that, but she still gets in a lot of trouble.

All three of them decided that it must have been Ponyboy who did it, otherwise why would he have run away. His brothers would have protected him, they said. Yeah, because I'm sure his brothers are really itching to get into fights with the fuzz. Oh brother. Sometimes people are just really stupid.

"Where do you think they are now?" the younger girl asked. I kept my mouth shut.

"I bet they're hiding out in one of their attics." That was the older girl.

"What if they don't have attics," Cindy asked.

"Maybe they're just hiding in a closet." That was the older girl again. I honestly don't know how she made it all the way to the eighth grade with a mind like that.

"Maybe they're in a car," Cindy said. "And every time the police drive by they just go somewhere else."

"They're in Texas." I hadn't meant to say that. It just slipped out. Those girls wanted to know how I knew about Texas but I wasn't saying any more. I took off and came home as soon as I could. Now I'm waiting to see how fast that one gets back to my brother. He'll probably figure out that I was sitting by the window. Great.

But really, I don't understand how three girls who just came from CHURCH, of all places, can sit around talking about a dead kid like it's the greatest news they ever heard. Okay, so maybe it is the BIGGEST news any kid in our part of Tulsa has heard in a LONG time, but still, it's not as though they ever knew any of the people involved.

I've never met people who can act so good but be interested in such bad things. I'm really talking about the younger girl. Her eyes go really wide and she gets this evil little grin on her face when we talk about the death and stuff, but I know that if I spent just a couple more minutes with her that she would be saying things like "gee" and "golly". "Gosh" even. Why do all those words start with a G?

Pretty much all of the younger kids in the neighborhood are talking about this. I guess everybody is, but really all I've heard is what the kids and some of their parents are saying. Not from their parents of course but from the kids themselves. One boy, Cindy's neighbor who stopped us on our way into her yard, told us that his mom is saying she doesn't want him going to the park again, even with friends. Parents are afraid something bad is going to happen to us kids. I mean really people, WE don't have to worry about anything. It's the rich kids that had better be careful around these parts. Nobody is going to - I just noticed a stupid cat sitting on my windowsill. I don't know how long he's been there but when I looked up he was staring right at me, yellow eyes glowing something crazy. I think that cats are probably the most hateful animals on the face of the earth. I've never even seen this thing before but it's giving me the death look anyway. What did I ever do to it? Honestly what do cats have to do all day? Eat, sleep, and clean themselves (in the most disgusting way possible)? What are they so angry about? I bet that all those people I hear about on the news who go missing or are killed by some mystery murderer have really been killed by stray cats. No, not even stray cats. Just cats in general. I bet the world would be a happier place if all cats were put out to die. I heard they can't swim. Maybe I'll test that theory one day.


	5. Monday

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

**Monday September 12th, 1966**

Guess who the most popular girl in the seventh grade was today? Me! But really I'm not that happy about it. Guilty by association, that's what I am. Everybody had a million and one questions about the Incident, as everybody at school's been calling it. For some reason Cindy decided that it would be a good idea to tell my class that my brother is friends with Ponyboy and Johnny. If I wanted a ton of attention I would have been happy with that, except that I don't want attention so I wasn't happy. In fact I've kind of been in a bad mood all day. A couple of girls have even gone on to say that they like Ponyboy even more now because he's a bad boy. Oh please! They didn't even know who he was before. And Johnny's the real bad boy.

It's not like I wouldn't love to be popular, it's just that if I am going to be popular I want it to be for a good reason, like because everybody thinks I'm a good friend, or because I'm really really pretty or something like that. You know, the reasons most popular people get popular. But I don't want to be popular because I happen to know somebody who knows somebody. Especially since everybody was asking me the same questions as they did yesterday. And Cindy DID tell everybody that they are on their way to Texas. I wasn't surprised when people started asking me about that, but what was I supposed to say? That I made it up? That's never going to happen, but if I tell the truth, that I heard it from someone in their gang, the rumors will start flying faster than I can say "It wasn't me."

**FIVE** **MINUTES LATER**

Cindy just called. I was actually surprised that it didn't have anything to do with the Incident this time. She wanted cigarettes.

"Why would I have those?" I asked.

"Doesn't anybody in your family smoke?"

"Sure, my brother does, but that doesn't mean I can just take them."

"Why not?"

"Because they're his."

"Oh well. Look, nobody at my house smokes and we figure that you're the safest person to get them from. Your brother is probably so upset over the Incident that he wont even notice." Then she went on to tell me that it's no secret he steals anyway so why would it be different if I took something from him. I'll tell you why it's different. Maybe he likes that people know he's a thief, but it's one thing for Keith to steal from other people. That doesn't make it right to steal from HIM. Cindy said that it's the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard but I don't really care what she thinks. I'm not going to help her get into something as dumb as smoking. Maybe it's weird that I think this, but I kind of think that girls who smoke look like they don't have any class. Well, girls around here anyway. Maybe WOMEN look okay when they smoke, all done up in their fancy dresses with their long finger nails, but somebody like Cindy would look like a goof. I don't mind it much if boys smoke though. Actually it doesn't bug me at all. I kind of like it. Wow, I must be messed up or something.

I wonder who Cindy meant when she said "we figure". I don't think it was her parents and her sister is too young to smoke. I guess she's hanging out with somebody else now. That's something I don't get. I don't really like spending time with her and she pretty much drives me nuts, probably because she talks at me constantly, but I get really jealous when I find out she's out with somebody else. Maybe it's because she at least has somebody else to meet up with. I've got nobody. It gets kind of boring being inside all day. I could go out front and write but I don't because the last thing I need is for somebody to see me writing in a diary. It doesn't matter how many other girls do the same thing, they'll make fun of me for it anyway.

Pretty soon I'll find a way to get to hang out with Keith's friends. He still hasn't started calling me Jenny, so until he does I'm sticking with Keith, as much as I can anyway. In a year I'll be old enough to date Ponyboy. I wont really date him though, I'll just use him. That sounds mean so maybe I'll let him in on it somehow but all I have to do is wait a year. Then once I'm part of the gang they wont care if I'm with Ponyboy or not, they'll just let me. That is, if Ponyboy ever gets back here. I'm actually kind of worried about them. Okay, so maybe I don't like Ponyboy, but that doesn't mean I want him to get hurt. And Johnny's okay. I've never really heard much come out of his mouth but I'm sure he's not a bad guy. It's kind of sad really. If I guy like my brother, who gets in fights and steals for fun and does god knows what else can spend most of his time away from the jails then it's not really fair that kids like them who hardly get in any trouble (at least I don't think they do) might have to spend the rest of their lives in jail for killing somebody. Somebody who was being a bully anyway.

**BEFORE BED**

I just finished an interesting conversation with my brother. I went into the kitchen to wash my hands after spilling milk all over them and he was standing at the sink looking out the window. I asked him to move a couple of times but he didn't seem to hear me. So to try and get his attention I called him Keith a couple of times. Eventually he looked at me.

"Why are you calling me Keith?"

"That's your name."

"Oh, right. What do you want?" He looked really out of it.

"I need to wash my hands."

"Fine." He stepped aside.

After I finished washing my hands I said, "Keith."

"Why wont you call me Two-Bit?"

"Because you wont call me Jenny."

"Your name is Janet."

"But I want to be called Jenny."

"Fine. What do you want, Jenny?" He was definitely in a bad mood.

I told him what I had been thinking about Ponyboy and Johnny, about it not being fair that they might go to jail.

"That wont happen."

"How do you know."

"Well, Pony didn't do anything and hopefully Johnny can get off too."

"So they might go to jail?"

He looked at me for awhile in a way that made me think he was angry. "What's it to you if they go to jail. You're always on about how much you hate Ponyboy. I bet Johnny's not far behind on your list of favorite people, so why do you care?"

"I just think it's unfair is all. Those other guys were fighting too but they are going to get away with it."

"You don't know that. You don't know anything about it."

"Everybody's talking."

"You don't have to listen."

"But you even said that you saw those guys earlier when you were…" I stopped talking then. I still can't believe I actually gave myself up.

He caught on right away. "You were listening to me."

"No I wasn't."

"Yes you were. You were listening when I was talking to Dally."

"So what if I was?"

He patted me on the shoulder a little roughly but laughed right afterwards. "Kid, if you aren't my sister then I don't know who is."

"Anyway," I tried to joke. "It's hard to know not when to listen to you. You've always got something to say."

He laughed again. "Yeah and I can see that it runs in the family."

He returned to looking back out the window and I decided to try and see if I could figure out what he was staring at. He spoke to me first.

"I don't get it. Why do you want to be around my friends when you hate them all anyway?"

"I don't hate them. I like Steve, and Darry, and Johnny and Dally even, and I like, well I like all of them. Just not Ponyboy."

"You forgot to mention me."

"You're my brother."

"Oh, I see how it is. You're just using me to make friends."

"Yeah, that's it."

"See that tree over there?" He was pointing out back towards another persons yard. I didn't understand why he would suddenly change the subject, but anyway that doesn't matter because this is where our conversation actually started to get interesting.

"Sometimes I wonder if it's really the wind that moves all of the leaves on trees and plants."

I didn't see where this was going. "What do you mean."

"Well look, it's not all the leaves that are blowing, it's just some of them, and they don't all move at the same time either."

"Well if it's not the wind then what is it?"

"Bugs."

"Bugs?"

"Yeah, each leaf that has a bug moves more than the ones that don't have bugs. Really it's not the wind. It's the heavy little bugs."

"But leaves are heavier than bugs."

"You ever weighed a bug and a leaf?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

"I'm just saying."

"Well anyway, I think it's probably the bugs."

So here I was, thinking that my brother was looking out the window thinking of something really remarkable like how to finally finish school or where his missing friends are, but instead he's wondering about bugs on trees. I'm trapped in a world full of crazy people.

**IN BED**

No, I thought about it. Maybe my brother isn't crazy after all. I've been looking out my window for a bit and I can see that maybe he is right. The leaves on the trees don't all move at the same time. And nothing else seems to be blowing in the wind, just a couple of leaves. Maybe bugs are heavy.

I wouldn't have even bothered writing this down but I had to do something to get over my fear. I hate looking out my window at night. I'm afraid that somebody will suddenly appear in front of my window. I wouldn't know what to do if that happened. When I was six Two-Bit told me a story about a lady who sits outside children's windows and then eats them while they sleep. I'm hardly a child anymore and I'm not afraid of that lady either, but since then I've always been afraid of looking outside in the dark. Sometimes I'm okay to do it, but I always scare myself after. Cindy and I had a talk once about whether we would rather have somebody outside our window or inside our house. She said outside the window, because then she would be safe. I said inside because at least then I would get to talk to them and find out what they want. Cindy thought I was crazy, telling me they could kill me and stuff. I figure they wouldn't kill me. I would sweet-talk my way out of murder. I'm funny that way. I can get myself in tons of trouble with my mouth but I can also get myself out of it. My mom told me it's a gift. She didn't say it like it's a good thing.

**2 A.M.**

Just woke up from a great dream. I can't fall back asleep so I thought I would get up and walk around a bit. In the dream I got that haircut that I want, died my hair, and looked INCREDIBLE. Plus the boy I like (whose name I will not mention just in case SOMEBODY happens to be sneaking around here) actually liked me back. That will never happen in real life, but at least I can get the haircut. Tomorrow, or today, I guess, I will take the money I have and a little bit from the secret stash in the kitchen (by secret I mean emergency. Mom will think it was my brother) and go get some peroxide. I'll get the haircut later. Maybe mom will take me when she sees how fantastic I look as a blond.


	6. Tuesday

****

Tuesday, September 13th, 1966

Just got back from the store. Cindy insisted on coming with me but I told her that my mom is home tonight so I can't do my hair. When she sees me tomorrow I'll just tell her that my mom wasn't home so I did it as fast as I could. She told me how to do it. Well she isn't really sure how but she told me what she thinks I should do. I just have to dump the stuff on my hair and then let it dry. She also said I should sit out in the sun. Well, it's not very sunny here today but that's okay. It will probably dry anyway. I just have to wait for my mom to leave for her shift and then I'll get everything done.

I can't wait. I was looking in the mirror and I can tell that I'm going to look good. My skin isn't too dark and my eyebrows are lighter than my hair, so at least I wont look like some kind of clown.

****

AFTER SUPPER

I ate an early supper with Mom. She wanted to spend some time with me before she left, and I can't believe it! I think she might actually know what I'm doing. While we were clearing the dishes she kept stroking my hair and saying, "It's such a lovely color. Your crown and glory." Well that's just wonderful. Now I'm actually going to feel guilty about things. That's not going to stop me from doing it, but I still feel guilty. How could she know though? I haven't said anything about it, and I know she hasn't read this. She might do a lot of things that annoy me but reading my diary isn't one of them. She's always said that she would never do that because her own mother always did that and it drove her nuts. I don't even know if she knows that I keep this. I hide it so well that she can't possibly know. Besides if she had read it should would have come right out and said something. She's not the kind of parent who tries and guilt her kids into everything. If she doesn't like something she'll tell me, that way she doesn't have to be disappointed.

I just realized that Cindy never told me how long I have to keep the stuff on before it dries. And I don't know if I'm supposed to wash it out either. Maybe I'll leave it in for an hour. Then I'll rinse it out just to be safe.

****

LATER

THE WORST THING EVER HAS JUST HAPPENED!! I was standing over the kitchen sink getting ready to do my hair. I had just opened the bottle of peroxide up and was going to dump it onto my hair when I heard somebody say, "What the hell are you doing?" I dropped the bottle in the sink I was so scared and half the stuff when pouring down the drain. I tried to save it but before I could my stupid brother came up and took the bottle from me.

"What the hell?" he asked.

"What?" I tried to grab the bottle from him but it was super slippery.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Dying my hair, do you mind!"

"Yes I mind. You can't dye your hair with peroxide."

"Yes you can!"

"No, you can BLEACH it, but you can't dye it."

"Well I want to bleach it. Give that back!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Well first of all, if this did work, you would look like a dandelion! And second, it wont work. It will kill you."

"That's a lie."

"It is not. Didn't you ever hear about that actress who died from peroxiding her hair?"

"That never happened."

"Did too. Ask mom if you don't believe me."

"Well if people die from it then how do you get your hair blond."

"I don't know. Ask mom. She bleaches hers with something."

"She does not."

"You think she's a natural blond?" He really laughed at that. I was too angry to laugh. Who is he to tell me that I can't dye my hair? Or bleach it. If I hadn't already bought the stuff I would have used the money for a haircut but it's too late for that now, so I'm stuck looking like a stupid penny. Not a shiny penny either, but the kind that have been sitting around in water fountains for years and look too dirty to pick up. I'm a dirty penny.

I don't even get it though. Stupid Keith acted like he just saved my life or something. He had this big grin on his face like he's all proud of himself. I'll bet he's proud too, proud that he has some new story to tell people. Well I hope they get a kick out of it because I'm certainly miserable. He even tried to tell me that I'm too young to dye my hair. What does he know about girls my age. I'm sure some of us dye our hair. They must.

****

IN BED

I've been in a pretty bad mood all night and was refusing to leave my bedroom. Not that anybody noticed. Somebody has to be here to notice. I stayed in here for about three hours when finally I had to pee so bad that I nearly didn't make it to the bathroom. It didn't help that my brother surprised me just by being in the living room. The look on my face made him laugh something terrible, but I didn't stick around to hear what it was that he was saying about me. He leaning over the back of our couch talking to Sodapop, who happened to be standing in the front doorway. I don't know how long they had been there but I was pretty embarrassed. The last thing you want after you come running out of your bedroom is for people to hear you in the bathroom. But I survived. I almost ran back to my room so that I could lock myself back in here but decided not to. Instead I chose to go out to the living room and see if I could hear what they were talking about. And just to be around.

Keith kind of gave me a look when I sat down on the couch but his friend didn't say anything so I figured I was safe to stay. I think they may have changed the subject right before I came in the room because they were both talking a little too fast and didn't really seem to know what they were saying. Something about watermelons. I didn't understand it.

I didn't say anything but instead just sat there and listened. After a while I think they forgot that I was there. I tuned in and out of their conversations, not understanding half of what they were saying, but I did hear them when they talked about Sodapop's brother.

"Dally knows where they are," he was saying. "He wont say nothing to me about it though. Darry can't get anything out of him either."

"I heard Texas," my brother offered.

Sodapop shook his head. "I don't know. He wouldn't give away the actual place that they're hiding. He wouldn't think to do that."

"He might have. Maybe he told 'em Texas because he wants them to think he's lying. If they hear Texas maybe they'll go looking in Missouri or Kansas or something. Maybe they think Texas is a waste of time."

"It don't matter much." Soda sounded almost sad, but it was like he was trying to cover that up by acting like it didn't bother him too much. "Texas is a big place. Nobody's ever gonna find them there."

"I could find them," my brother said, and he got that look on his face that he gets when he's got (what he thinks is) a really great idea.

Sodapop shook his head.

Keith didn't want him telling him no. "Hear me out, just hear me out. You go find Steve, get him to meet me at your place. I'll get him to give my car a once over, check and make sure everything is okay. Then I'll take off tonight for Texas. It can't be too hard to find them. A couple of kids on foot, that's what they are. Heck, a greaser's got a better chance at pickin' out other greasers than the fuzz do. Where are they going to look anyway? Other stations to see if they get hauled in?"

"I don't know Two-Bit-"

"It'll be fine. Come with me if you want. No, maybe you ought to stay here, what with work and Sandy and all. I'll do better on my own. Less distractions. I'll have your brother and Johnnycake back in no time. Isn't that right Janet, I mean Jenny, I mean what's your name today? Doesn't matter. The point is - what's the point. Oh yeah! The point is that come tomorrow night I will have your brother and Johnny back here safe and sound."

"Two-Bit I don't think you know how far-"

"Don't try and knock me when I'm down, Soda. It ain't like it matters what anybody says. I'm not just going to sit around here doing nothing while some of the gang's in trouble."

I kind of thought that it was a little mean for him to say that, what with all of his friends staying behind too, but I guess he realized what it had sounded like because he corrected himself.

"I don't mean that I'll be the only one doing something. It's just that you and Darry both work and Steve works and goes to school. Dally must do something with his days, I can only imagine what."

"You go to school," his friend reminded him.

"That don't count. I never do anything there anyway and what's the fun of going when I'm worrying about people half the time?"

Sodapop might have been talking like he didn't want my brother taking off but the big smile on his face told me otherwise. I'll bet he misses his brother a lot. Maybe Ponyboy is a pain in the neck but then so is my brother and I would probably go crazy if he ever ran away. A little while later Sodapop even mentioned how they are calling Ponyboy and Johnny runaways, and he said he thinks it's ridiculous since Darry is Ponyboy's guardian and he never called him a runaway. I'm starting to hate the laws around this place more and more everyday.

Mom got home just as Sodapop was getting ready to leave, and the second she walked through the door she put her arm around him. He's quite a bit taller than her but definitely skinnier, and it's strange to see how someone so much older can sometimes look so small.

"How are you holding out, kid?" she asked him. He just sort of nodded and said that he was okay. She likes the Curtis brothers. Actually she likes all of my brother's friends, even some of the ones that other moms wouldn't be caught dead talking to, but I guess that's the way she is. As crazy as she drives me sometimes I have to admit that she is a cool mother. Maybe not as much to my friends as to my brother's, but I don't have many friends anyway.

Two-Bit was excited to tell Mom all about going to Texas. Sodapop even stayed back a couple of minutes to listen. Two-Bit just has that affect on people. Sure he drives me nuts because he's my brother, but he's still got such a, I don't know, goofiness about him that makes you like him. He can make most anybody smile, and when he gets in idea in his head it's amazing to watch him.

Mom listened carefully to everything that he told her, and I could tell that she was trying not to smile through part of it. But I knew that she wasn't going to like the idea either.

"First of all sweetheart," she said, "do you know how to get to Texas?"

"I'll get a map."

"And where do you plan on finding those boys?"

"I've got ideas."

"Well I don't think this is such a good one."

"It ain't a bad one either."

"But Two-Bit do you honestly think they're in Texas?"

He explained to her what he thought about Dally telling them the right place so people would think it was the wrong one.

"I thought that you at least would know that the police have to go by every lead they can get. Which means even if they don't believe it they still have to go looking in Texas."

"I don't know about that…"

"Let me put it this way kiddo," Mom said in a way that said even though she knew how she felt she still didn't like it. "How you planning on getting there?"

"My car."

"What if you run out of gas?"

"I'll get more."

"With what money?"

After that he didn't say much else about it, but he had that look in his eyes that warned me not to be surprised if he called in the morning to say that he's in Texas. He left with Sodapop but on his way out I did hear him mention that the only reason she didn't want him to go is because she'll miss him too much.

While Mom was talking to them it kind of got me realizing something. She's actually really smart. I never thought she was dumb, but I never thought of her as being really smart either. I mean why else would she be working the job she does. Shouldn't she be doing something that uses her mind instead of being practically a servant to lowlifes? Kind of makes me wonder what I'll turn into when I'm older, what with her having come from a home with two parents and enough cash to pay the bills on time.

****

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

Oh man. I can't sleep. It's driving me crazy. The lack of privacy in this house is enough to make me go mad. There are so many OTHER things that I would love to write in here but I can't on account of the fact that somebody will eventually end up reading this. It doesn't matter how well I hide it, sooner or later somebody is going to come across it. I wish I knew a second language. Then I would have no problem keeping secrets. I wonder how hard it is to learn Spanish. Or German even. Something that nobody around these parts knows anyway.


	7. Wednesday

****

Wednesday September 14th, 1966

BEFORE SCHOOL

I didn't get to sleep until after midnight last night. Woke up at five-thirty this morning. Can't say that I'm in the best mood now, but I can admit that I'm kind of glad I didn't bleach my hair. I would probably look kind of silly and Mom would have had a fit. It just makes me mad that I didn't have a choice in it. Oh well. Wow. Just looked at the clock. I'm probably going to be late for school.

****

LATER

-- Dearest Diary,--

--I'm writing this to say that I feel a great hole in my heart, and I cannot bear to live this way any longer. I feel empty, empty because I have to live everyday without the greatest love of my life. I'm afraid to write it in here though, because that horrible TWO-BIT might read it and then he'll know who I have fallen madly for. Oh, who cares about TWO-BIT anyway. This is all about me, me, me! I would shout his name out at the top of my lungs if I could. Sodapop! I would cry. Sodapop! I love you! More than life! More than ice-cream! More than the blue blanket that I've been holding onto for the last six years that is so full of holes that I'm probably catching diseases from! More than peroxide! I love you more than I love myself, Sodapop. Oh how I wish he would come to me. I don't care that he's nearly five years older. Age doesn't matter, not when you're a mature woman like myself. I could make him happy in ways that his sweetheart Sandy never could. I could make him feel like a MAN. I would even meet him in secret so that nobody would have to know. That way TWO-BIT would keep out of my business. I know he cares about me, I honestly do, and I know that I would have to keep this a secret because even though Sodapop(!) is one of his best friends, TWO-BIT would kill him if he ever found out Sodapop was messing around with me. Oh Sodapop! I love that name so much. Every time I drink a Coca-Cola I'll think of him. Every time somebody has soda come out their nose because they are laughing too hard, I'll think of him. Every time I see a piece of broken glass it will remind me of a soda pop bottle, and I'll think of him. I will always love Sodapop. One day, one day when hell has frozen over, and when TWO-BIT has keeled over and is resting in his grave (under a nice big shady big tree, I should add, overlooking a valley or some lake or something), I will finally be able to be with my one true love. Until then, I will have to stare at him from far away, or outside of his window, whichever way is easier, and will have to try not to take my own life. If I must take my own life though, I will do it by stabbing myself, just to prove that it is possible to stab yourself to death. But first I will throw cats into a lake. Because life wont have been worth living if I haven't at least checked to see if cats can swim.--

--Until we meet again, dearest, darlingest diary, I say farewell.--

--Janet Mae Matthews (Curtis)--

****

REAL LATER

I could just murder that good-for-nothing brother of mine!! I can't believe it. He came into my room while I was a school to find socks, so he said, and came across my journal. He didn't tell me that he found the journal though, just mentioned something about the socks to me when we passed each other on my way in. But then he read it! Probably the whole thing! I had to cross out an entire page and a half of his gigantic, scratchy writing but I couldn't rip the pages out unless I want to lose other stuff as well, which I don't.

I cried when I found it. I'm still crying. Not because I'm sad but because I'm angry. And embarrassed. Who wants their brother reading their diary? And then to write stuff like that?! He actually guessed that I like Soda too! I don't know how he knew. It's not as though I ever talk about him. I actually try NOT to talk about him so that nobody knows. I'm not madly in love with him though. I hardly care about him at all. Sure, I think he's good looking, but I don't want to run away with him. Not that he would run away with me anyway. I've seen him with his girlfriend a couple of times. I'm completely jealous of her. She's kind of pretty, but who cares how pretty she is when she gets to go with the guy I like. She could have polka dotted skin and orange teeth and I would still be jealous of her because he likes her back. Okay, so maybe I would be jealous of polka dotted skin no matter what, but I don't know anybody with polka dots on their skin. Well my brother had this rash once, but anyway, it was on his leg and from when a bunch of bugs bit him. I think he did it on purpose. He sat outside in the summer and covered all of his skin up except this one spot around his ankles. Don't know why he did it, he was fourteen then and cursed the bites something awful when he realized how much they itch. I wish he could have those stupid bug bites all over his body right now! I can't wait until that ass gets home because when he does I'm going to beat him. I don't care if he is bigger! I'm angry enough to kill a baby. No I take that back. I'm angry enough to kill a full grown greaser with slick hair and a stupid switchblade. I'll kill him! I'll just kill him!

****

AFTER THE WAR

KEITH didn't get home until seven thirty. Good thing Mom wasn't here. I don't know what she would have to say about this. Turns out the reason KEITH kept writing "Two-Bit" in capital letters in that fake entry of his is because he doesn't like how I keep calling him Keith. Well too bad. It is his name, after all. If he doesn't like it then he can go and change it. I did try to fight him. No, I didn't TRY to, I actually did. The second he came in the door I start smacking him and punching him wherever I could. He knew right away what it was for because he didn't seem surprised.

"Well aren't you in a mighty good mood!" he hollered as I tried to grab him round the neck. It only made me angrier to hear him laugh like that so I actually jumped on his back to get a better reach of his neck. Big mistake. Next thing I knew he was swinging me around, laughing and saying that he thought I was a little old for piggyback rides.

"Since you asked so politely though," he joked, before spinning me around again. I was screaming at him to stop and punching and kicking him but nothing seemed to hurt.

The good news though is that he didn't try to hurt me. He could have easily fought back, but if he had then I would be dead right now. Or at least in a lot of pain. Not that he's ever beaten me up before, but he doesn't always sit there and take it when I start to wail on him either. I'm not a violent person though, at least not to other people.

I did end up having a little fun out of it. Once he got me off his back I told him I wanted my socks back.

He was grinning. "I'm not wearing your socks."

"You took them from my room."

"Yes but my socks were in your drawer. That's not my fault."

"Mom gave them to me. Give 'em back."

"Janet you don't need socks anyway."

"It's Jenny. And yes I do. I want them."

"Too bad."

"Keith!" I cried. That's when he told me about calling himself Two-Bit in my journal. I told him that I wanted my socks back. He kicked his shoes off and then pealed the first sock off. It was a little bit damp and smelled pretty fowl, but I took it anyway. He looked a little bit frustrated while he pulled of the other sock but I didn't pay much attention to that. Instead I stomped on his bare foot as hard as I possibly could and threw the sock back at him before running off to my room. It sounded pretty painful for him but he hasn't come down here to get me back (yet), so for now I think everything is okay.

****

IN BED

My brother came down and apologized for writing what he did. Except that he's not really sorry. It was the kind of sorry you say to someone after you called them a nasty name and then had a teacher tell you to apologize. Ungenuine. I don't if that's a word, but that's the kind of apology it was. I didn't want to accept. Doesn't matter to him if I did anyways. He kept cracking jokes until I started laughing like a maniac. I guess he thinks everything is okay now. Tomorrow he'll go on like everything is normal. I hate this. I never get to be mad at anybody. Nobody takes it seriously.

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. Some days more stuff happen then others. Also, I know that in the book the rumble takes place on Saturday, so though they spend five days in the church I may have to add in an extra imaginary one just to make things even out. But I do know this. Anyway, thanks for reading. I'm happy to see that people are interested!


	8. Thursday II

A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Here's your update.

****

Thursday September 15th, 1966

Just as I expected. My brother is going around acting like nothing is wrong. Even came up to me in the kitchen and pretended to crack on a egg on my head. Maybe that doesn't sound like much but he does it every morning and the one time that he actually did it was the time I didn't realize it until it had actually started to dry. That's the worst thing about having thick hair. Sure it's all fine and dandy that it's not all wispy and making me look like some kind of baldy, but it means that I can't feel things half the time either. Mom has told me a couple of times that if I tried paying a little more attention to my appearance then maybe I would notice those things. Keith has said the same things. He jokes. She's serious. I honestly don't know what she's worried about my appearance for. The way I figure it I could be doing a lot worse.

Cindy's kind of been giving me a hard time since I refused to give her cigarettes. She really doesn't need them though. And she only gives me a hard time when other people don't want my attention. A couple of the boys in my class have taken to asking me for updates about the Incident like I might actually have news to give them. Or news that I would WANT to give them. Whenever they're around though Cindy shows up and starts talking at them like they actually care what she has to say. I say talking AT them because in order for it to count as talking TO them they actually have to be listening. Which they don't. I still can't figure out how she can be so boy crazy… I take that back… I still can't figure out how she can be so boy crazy for guys in OUR school. I keep telling her that once we get to high school she'll forget all about the boys our age. When we get to high school we'll be around men.

She said, "But when we get to high school the boys our age will be in high school too."

Frig-a-dig-dig! Trying to explain boys to her is like trying to explain why cats and dogs can't have babies to a six-year-old. For the record I'm actually not sure why cats and dogs can't have babies together, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with why humans can only have babies with humans. But that's not my point. Cindy is a little bit simple. No, she's not simple, she's just not smart. At least I don't think she is. Maybe she could be if she actually thought about other things than boys and being popular. I've tried to tell her that boys our age don't like girls. I mean look at today even. Boys came to talk to me because they wanted to know about a murder, you know, guts and blood and all that creepy stuff. She seems to think that they came to talk to me because they like me. Well, that's what she said at first. Then she went on to say , "Oh so-and-so (Paul) likes me and he knew that since we're best friends that I would be around you." Yeah cause I'm sure boys pay so much attention to her that they know when she's around. Not that they can't pay attention to her, I mean she never shuts up. And I don't mean in the way that I never shut up, where I can't stop myself sometimes once I'm on a role, but the way that she has to be talking all of the time so that the attention is on her. She laughed at me when I told her that boys don't like girls who talk all the time, but from what I know it's true. I mean if my brother is anything to go by then it seems that boys like to do most of the talking. Cindy really could stand to listen to me every once and a while, otherwise she's only going to get stuck with some boy that wants her only for, well, you know… Then again, I bet she wouldn't mind that.

I still am angry at my brother. I almost asked mom to buy me a new journal today, that way I could start over in something else. Now that he knows what this one looks like he's bound to come looking for it for kicks when he's bored, or drunk, or both. I practically wanted to kick the walls down yesterday. It was just such a horrible feeling having somebody reading all of my thoughts. But I can't do anything about it. I don't even think I wrote anything that bad in here yet for some reason I'm afraid that he knows something I don't want him knowing. I'm still angry, but I'm not angry at the same time. I guess it might be easier if I could actually talk to somebody about it, but I don't have anybody to do that too. If I told Cindy she would want to read it, and if I tell my mom that would make me a rat. And I don't care how angry I am, I can't tell on my brother. Everybody knows the only kids who tell on other people are kids who are an only child. They don't know any better. I feel bad for kids who don't have any brothers and sisters. Having a really miserable brother or sister is a lot better than none at all. I mean if you don't have brothers or sisters how do you learn all of the important stuff, like just because you fall down it doesn't mean you have to cry about it, or why it's okay to do things when adults aren't around. That's one thing I never got, kids who actually do what they're told. If your parents aren't around and they aren't going to find out about it AND you aren't going to get punished then who cares. Go for it.

****

IN BED

Mom had the night off so I ended up making supper with her and having a long talk. It was a good talk, not the kind where she tells me what she wishes I would work on but the kind where we both just talk. She told me that she treats me a bit different than my brother mostly because she sees me and him differently. He's older, her oldest, so even when he was my age she saw him as being more independent and able to do more things than I can without being told to. I wanted to laugh at that but I didn't. How she can't see that he is the laziest son of a gun is beyond me. He's not lazy like he doesn't do ANYTHING, he's lazy like he doesn't do anything productive (as much teacher likes to call it). Anyway, she told me that the reason she doesn't treat me the same way is because I'm her baby and I'm her only girl. I could have pointed out that he is her only boy, but I didn't. It sounds kind of strange, but I actually liked it when she said that I'm her baby. It makes me feel young, and I don't know why but for some reason that's a good thing. I like that I'm still young enough to be taken care of, like people aren't going to forget all about me or something. So I don't know why I did it, but all of a sudden I found myself telling her about the diary.

I told her everything, about how he had read it and what he had written in it and that he didn't even seem to care about it. I even started to cry a little, which I hate to do but always end up doing when I'm talking to my mom about this kind of stuff because, well I'm not sure why but she just always makes me cry. Has the same effect on me that my brother does with laughing.

"Janet," she tried to say nicely, "I'm sure he was just joking."

"Of course he was joking! He's always joking! That doesn't make it funny."

"Can I see what he wrote?"

"No! You'll read it."

"Only what he wrote."

I wasn't going to give in, but finally I lost the fight with myself and decided that I actually wanted somebody else to see how nasty what I had written was. So I went and opened it to the page for her, and a let her read it.

I could tell she wanted to laugh but I didn't say anything. When she finished reading she closed the notebook, handed it back to me and looked me in the eyes.

"You know he's too old for you."

"Two-Bit?" Why on earth would I care about my brother's age?

"No. Sodapop."

"Oh. He makes it sound worse than it really is."

"Well alright, but I just don't want you setting yourself up for heartache. He's sixteen Janet."

"That's another thing," I said, trying to change the subject. "Why can't you just call me Jenny."

She sort of raised one eyebrow like she didn't understand. "Because I named you Janet."

"Yes but I don't like Janet. I bet you didn't always like your name."

She laughed. "No, I guess not. But I like Janet."

"And I like Jenny."

"Why Jenny anyway?"

"It's a nickname for Janet." I wasn't about to tell her that it came from a song. She would probably want to hear the song, and then we would have to start talking about me and gangs, and why I don't want any part in them. Not that she's worried about gangs here. I think she's more upset about me being involved with them on account of my being a girl. She's probably heard me listen to that song a million times anyway, but she won't think it has anything to do with me until she hears me mention it.

"Alright, Jenny," she said. "I'll call you what you like under one condition."

"What's that?"

"You promise me that you won't worry about boys until you're sixteen, at least."

I'm not really WORRIED about boys as it is. "No problem."

"I give you a year," she joked, but I say two. That way I'll be in high school where the men are.

She didn't say much else about what my brother wrote but she did mention that I should stop calling him Keith. I wanted to know how she knew I was calling him that.

"I hear you two Jenny, don't think I'm deaf. Besides it's been driving him crazy. He hates it as much as you hate Janet."

"Then why won't he stop calling me Janet?"

"I don't know, I guess it's hard to make the switch."

"Yeah well it's hard for me not to call him a stinkin' no good dirty rotten son of a-"

She smacked me lightly on the leg before I could finish and told me not to talk like that. I don't see why I can't. Two-Bit does. So does she, sometimes. She can have a worse mouth than anybody I know at times. That's what I like about her. Cursing sounds something pretty incredible when it's coming out of your mother's mouth. Sometimes she seems to look for a reason to cuss, like the other day when she found out about that Soc being killed. I heard a couple of new ones that day, and I can't remember half of them, but they sure were colorful. It's a wonder I don't have a dirtier mouth. I guess I'm afraid I don't sound right when I curse, like I sound like somebody who's faking it. Once I screamed something awful when I realized that I'd lost a five dollar bill. My brother had a field day with that one, going on and on about I sounded like I had planned to lose the five dollars just so I could get that word out. And it turned out that my money was in his pocket. For some reason he decided to see how long he could hold onto it before I noticed, which I know means he wanted to see how soon he could spend it before I said anything.

****

IN BED AGAIN

I got up to get myself a glass of water and was talking to Mom in the living room for a couple of minutes when my brother got home. He had a wild smile on his face and right away mom wanted to know what he had been up to.

"Well me and this girl Cathy are out driving a while ago and wouldn't you know it, the brakes are shot on my car."

"Are you okay?" I asked, suddenly worried.

"Actually no," he said. "See my legs got torn off after the car crashed but don't worry I just put on my spare pair so that I could come in here and let ya'll know that I'm dying."

Mom laughed at that. I didn't think it was so funny. People really do lose their legs in car accidents, I think.

Mom asked what happened to his car.

"It's parked out front."

"How'd it get there?"

"I drove it there."

"How'd you get it to stop," I asked.

"Oh see after I practically killed Cathy and me we ended up just, ah, spending time together and then I walked with her for a bit. I met up with a couple fellows and they helped give me a push home. I would have driven here real fast like but I didn't want to crash the car into the neighbor's house, so we drove slow and made sure not to ride down any hills. Then when we got here all of us just held onto the car so we could stop it."

"Where are your friends now?" Mom asked. "They could have come in."

"Oh no we parked the car here a few hours ago. Cathy and I went back out with a couple of people and then I walked home. It's been a great night though." He looked at me. "I've got some news for you."

"What?" I asked.

"I'll tell you later."

"What is it?" I guessed that he didn't have any news for me but I couldn't help asking for it anyway.

"Be patient kid. I'll tell you when the time is right."

"Be nice to your sister," Mom told him. I smiled when she said it. That was probably the closest she's come in a long time to even scolding him.

After Mom went off to bed Two-Bit threw himself down on the couch and lit up a smoke.

"Make me a sandwich, will you Jenny."

Now I knew right away that I was going to make him a sandwich, only because I was so happy that he'd called me Jenny, but that didn't mean I was going to do it without a fight.

"Make your own sandwich."

"Did I forget the magic word? Make me a sandwich, PLEASE."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're up."

"You're awake."

"You're closer to the kitchen."

"Actually you are."

"Actually you are since you're standing."

"I'm not making you a sandwich."

"Come on. You'll be my favorite sister."

"Don't I feel lucky."

"I love you."

"Doesn't mean I want to make you a sandwich."

"Oh come on. I've had a tough day. I practically got killed tonight."

"I had a tough day too. You should be making me a sandwich."

"How tough was your day?"

"I actually went to school."

"So did I."

"I actually did some work there."

"Did you almost get killed?"

"No."

"I did. I win. Make me a sandwich."

"Fine." I turned and walked into the kitchen. Once I had buttered two pieces of bread he called me back out to the living room.

"What?" I asked.

"Did you already start making it?"

"Yes."

"Good, because since you've already started you may as well make it the way I like." He went on to describe exactly what he wanted, the order he wanted the stuff in, and which direction to cut it. In triangles, like he was afraid I might actually cut down the middle. That's no fun. Triangles are more fun. And the sandwich looks neater. I actually make it the way he wanted too, mostly because I was getting too tired to argue.

I brought the sandwich out and gave it to him.

He looked at it for a second and then looked at me. I couldn't help but giggle.

"What did you do to it?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"I'm not laughing."

"You didn't do anything to it?"

"No!"

"Fine. Take a bite." He held the plate up to me. I took a bite. "You have to actually eat it."

I ate it. "See, it's fine."

"No it's not," he said. "You took a bite. Go make me another one."

"No. I just made you one!"

"Yeah but now it's not even a full sandwich. And you ruined it with your teeth."

"Fine, I'll go throw it away." I took the plate from him but he stopped me before I could go.

"Never mind, I'll eat it." He took the sandwich away but left the plate in my hands.

I was super tired when I finally got in here but only a couple of minutes later I felt wide awake and decided to write this. I forgot all about asking him what his news was for me but when I went back to ask he was already asleep, a piece of sandwich still in his hand. I'll guess have to wait until morning.

****

AFTER MIDNIGHT

OH MY GOOD LORD!! OH MY - HOLY CROW!! The greatest news in the world! Two-Bit just came in and woke me up and even though I'm exhausted I can't go back to sleep now. I can't believe it, I just can't believe it! I'm so happy I'm not even going to call my brother Keith right now. I'll call him Two-Bit, even though the news he had for me was actually to make fun of me. I don't care. It's still good news to me. Sodapop actually broke up with Sandy. Okay, well maybe he didn't break up with her, I guess they just broke up together or however it is that people do that kind of stuff, but anyway the point is that aren't together anymore. That means he doesn't have another girl in his life. Still doesn't mean I stand a chance either, because I've seen the way that girls look at him and the way they hang around him, but it DOES mean that he doesn't have ONE girl around him anymore, and that's good enough for me.

Now, if I can only get him to stay single until I'm sixteen. That would make him…twenty. Boy he'll be old. As old as his brother Darry I think. But Darry is still good looking at twenty so I guess that Soda will probably age well too. I just hope that he looks happier. Darry's kind of scary looking. I don't think I'd want to mess with him. I guess I wouldn't want to mess with Sodapop either, even though I've never actually seen him get angry. Angry isn't the right word. Vicious. He isn't vicious enough. He's too sweet, and handsome, and friendly, an


	9. Friday II

****

Friday September 16th, 1966

BEFORE SCHOOL

I must have been tired last night. I fell asleep writing and after looking that stuff over I can tell I was really out of it. I never would have written that stuff about Sodapop if I was in the right state of mind. Sweet and handsome? Who talks like that? He's no more sweet than the other guys. Handsome? Well sure I guess he is but he's actually kind of pretty. In a good way though. Pretty because he's not as scary looking as some of the others. Maybe he is friendly but he hardly ever talks to me. I am delusional. I might scratch that out when I get home from school, just so I never have to remind myself how stupid I can get.

Right now I have to think of a place to hide this. It was in my drawer because I figured nobody would ever go in there but I was wrong about that. So I've been hiding it underneath my mattress but I was in my brother's room a couple of days ago and saw that he hides stuff under his mattress too. Different stuff, but still I'll bet he doesn't want me knowing about them.

I could hide this in my pillowcase but that might be too obvious. I guess I could try my closet but it's kind of empty and it'll be really easy to find.

****

FIVE MINUTES LATER

I found a spot. The carpet in the corner of my room is sort of coming up. I'll just hide this under there. Nobody will ever think to look under the rug. Oh no I have to go. It's getting kind of late. Oh well, I'm going to be late as it is so I might as well keep writing for a couple of minutes. I'm just so happy today that nothing is going to bring me down.

****

AFTER SCHOOL

I spent half the day stuck in the hall. I wasn't surprised. It's pretty much the only thing my teacher does when you get in trouble. Sometimes she sends people to the office but she's not going to do that to me on account of my being a girl. It's like she thinks girls don't deserve to go to the office, no matter what we do. We just get sent out into the hall. I'm glad she wasn't my teacher a couple of years ago because I'm sure if she had been I would spend all of my time standing in the corner. I had a teacher in the third grade who made kids stand in the corner no matter what they did wrong. I actually only had to do it once though. Our class was so bad that year that practically everybody had to do it just once. I wasn't any quieter in that grade than I am now but I guess the other kids were just worse. It was a good thing too because the worse feeling is having a bunch of kids staring at your back. You're never really sure what's going on behind you. It's kind of like doing dishes at the kitchen sink while everybody else in the house is having fun at the table. No fun at all.

The only reason I had to stand out the hall anyway is because I was late. And then, after about a million hours of standing out there she came and asked me if I was ready to join the class yet. I said no. That was probably the worst mistake in the world. She slammed the classroom door on her way in, which was probably to scare me but I just thought it was immature. If you can't control your temper then you really shouldn't be a teacher. That's why I could never be a teacher. I would just want to lash out and hit everybody. Well maybe when I'm older I wont feel that way but right now I do because everybody is the same size as me. What else are you supposed to do when you're mad at somebody who is twelve? Talk to them? In this neighborhood that doesn't happen much. Half the kids around here can't hold an entire conversation anyway. I don't mean that they're stupid, I just mean that they aren't school smart. They worry about other things. Like if their houses are going to get broken into at night or if somebody is going to beat them up. Especially some of the boys. They're really starting to change, and get kind of rough but I don't mind. Everybody has to grow into something.

I'm not really afraid of having my house broken into, even though Mom likes having the doors locked at night. I can't see why. Anybody who came to rob our house would come in and say, "Hey, somebody already got this place," and turn right around and leave. I'm not afraid of being beat up either. It's funny because sometimes Cindy worries about getting jumped. Okay that's not funny, that's hilarious. Why would she be worried about getting jumped? She's a girl, and she's twelve! Who jumps a kid? And a girl kid at that? Really I think she's hoping to get jumped. Sure I think it would be okay to be jumped, only because then I would no people actually know me and who I am and would actually have a reason to jump me, but she wants it so that people will feel sorry for her and take care of her. I wanted to stick needles in my ears when she told me that. She wants people to take care of her? And not the way that I do, like I know somebody loves me, but in the way that they nurse her back to health. She didn't' tell me everything but I'm pretty sure she wants a boy to care for her. I don't know why I waste my time…

Didn't bother scratching out the stuff from last night. Hopefully I can learn from that mistake and not be such a - a- a CINDY next time I'm writing about a boy.

I think I might go out for awhile. It's Friday night and I actually want to do something. All I ever do on Fridays is sit around and watch TV. I never even go to sleepovers anymore. Maybe I'll find something to do if I go for a walk.

****

LATER

So that wasn't much of a walk. I went around the block and just when I saw Cindy coming out her front door and turned and went the other direction, hoping she didn't see me. I really don't feel like being around her right now. These last couple of days all she's wanted to do is find things that can get us in trouble. Like sneaking into somebody's house while they're out or smoking and now even stealing. Because I really want to be a juvenile delinquent right now. How bad would that be if I got arrested for breaking into somebody's house just because I was LOOKING to get in trouble. Who looks to get in trouble? In order for it to really count trouble has to find you. I wish somebody would explain that to Cindy. She seems to think that because my brother is so good at being bad that it's in my blood. Well maybe it is, I don't know, but that doesn't mean I'm going to try and be bad. How would my mom take it? She's only got two kids. One of us has to turn out kind of right at least. She's too good for me to try and screw myself up. I want her to at least be a little proud of me. Right now that means I'll just try and get all the way through high school. Then I'll see where that takes me.

After I took off from Cindy I decided to walk along the other direction down towards this place that I've seen my brother and his friends play football a couple of times. I was nearly on the other end of the field when I saw a bunch of them standing around the corner. Not my brother's friends, but my brother's kind. You know, the kind of guys that all dress the same. Greasers. I hate calling them that. I feel like because I'm not one of them I don't have the right to cal them that like I know them. Anyway I've seen them there a couple of times on my way home from school this week but never thought much of it. Today though I sat down on a bench to pretend to tie up my shoelaces and instead watched them.

I never realized it before, but maybe there is something to be afraid of in this neighborhood. Those guys all look really scary. Not many of them are very good looking. I guess they look too angry to be good looking. And too old. Even the guys who are only a couple years older than me look old, like they've seen too much or know too much for kids their age or something. They all had their hair done back the same way, the only difference was that some had longer hair than others, and some had darker and greasier hair. They all wore jeans, tight jeans, and some wore jackets while others wore shirts with short sleeves or no sleeves at all. I'm wearing a sweater and I'm shivering, but I guess some of them kept warm by jumping around and pretending fighting with each other.

The one thing I really noticed though is how young some of them are. They can't be much older than me. Even they seemed a little bit nervous to be there, like they knew they were too young, but I guess everybody needs a place to fit in. Maybe they were scared of some of the bigger ones, I mean who wouldn't be? I'd be afraid to look at them the wrong way.

I wonder how scary those boys must look to kids who aren't from my neighborhood. If kids from around here who have grown up with half of them can be scared then I wonder how bad it must be for kids who aren't used to it.

A car drove by at one point. It was a nice car, nicer than the kind most people have around here. A lot of the guys on the corner started to holler at it when it passed them. A couple of them even chased after it for a couple of seconds, shouting and laughing something I couldn't hear. Then I realized something. Before I said that the Soc that Johnny killed had deserved it because he had it coming. Maybe that's true, but then how come our guys don't deserve it either. It isn't just Socs that jump the Greasers. Greasers are just as bad. Maybe worse. I guess to me the difference is that a lot of the Socs go looking for trouble, like they want people to know that they're better. Maybe Greasers go looking for trouble too, I don't know. Right now I kind of feel like I don't know anything about my neighborhood.

****

FIVE MINUTES LATER

I was sitting inside writing but I decided to come sit out front instead. I don't even care who sees me right now. It feels strange sitting in the house. I kind of feel like going for a run or something, except that I don't go for runs so I would probably only make it to the end of the block before running back. I'm so tired of being alone. One thing about those boys I saw earlier is that at least they have people to go to. I could go see Cindy but I would probably be more bored than I am now. There's nobody else to go to, not really. Especially not now. It's practically six o'clock. It getting dark already now too. The days are getting short. Pretty soon it'll be starting the get dark by the time I get home from school.

****

IN BED

I sat out on the front for quite awhile, just kind of thinking to myself about things. My brother came home and told me that they found Ponyboy and Johnny. I don't really know what happened to them but Darry and Sodapop went to pick their brother up. I turns out Two-Bit was right, Dally did know where they were. I guess something happened but that's all my brother will say. He doesn't know much more about it himself. Did tell me that there's a rumble tomorrow night thought.

"Can I go?" I asked.

He laughed. "No."

"Why not?"

"You're a girl."

"So what. Girls fight in rumbles."

"No they don't."

"I don't see why not."

"Because no boy is about to try and beat up a girl."

I made a comment about how some of those guys didn't look like they had problems beating girls up.

"Okay well no boy is about to try and beat up a girl with a bunch of people looking." I guess he had a point. But I still don't see why I can't at least go to the rumble. I wouldn't have to fight or anything. Just watch. I wouldn't want to fight anyway, and knowing me I wouldn't stand a chance against a toddler. But that doesn't mean I don't want to be involved. One day though I'll have a gang of my own. A gang full of girls. And there will be this gang full of boys and each one of my girls will be going with each one of their boys. My boyfriend will be the leader. I already know what he'll look like. And NO, it's not even Sodapop Curtis. Sure, he's good for a real life crush but my imaginary boyfriend is someone completely different. He's taller, stronger and wider. With big arms and wide shoulders. He's got hair such a dark brown it looks almost black, but it's not really greasy. It's a little bit long and kind of straight. His eyes are green, and he hardly ever says anything. People think he's too tough for much of anything, like talking and goofing around, but when he's with me he tells me everything and I do the same to him. And he only smiles and laughs around me. I'm not sure what his name is yet. Something kind of old fashioned, like Lionel or Hubert. But nobody will know his real name except me. They'll all call him by his last name. Me though, I'll call him something for his nickname. If he's Lionel, it'll be Nell, or Nels, and if it's Hubert, I'll call him Hub. That was my grandpa's name. He was probably an interesting man. It doesn't really matter though, because I'll never get to meet my imaginary Hub. Not in this lifetime anyway.


	10. Saturday II

A/N: Thanks for reading and the reviews. Sorry for such short chapters on this story but I hope you're enjoying them anyway.

**Saturday September 17th, 1966**

I cannot cannot cannot CANNOT believe this! I don't know if I should be angry or thrilled. Mom handed me the morning paper when I got up and guess who is on the cover? Ponyboy! And Johnny and Dally too. They saved a bunch of kids from burning in a church. Johnny's still in the hospital. Dally too I think. I didn't really read the article. But that's not my problem. There was another paper with a picture of all the Curtis boys in it and even though Ponyboy was covered in grimy black stuff and the picture was in black and white I'm almost POSITIVE that his hair has been bleached BLOND. Two-Bit is going to hear from me for this, let me tell you.

Maybe I should be thrilled that they're calling a couple of kids from around here heroes, but really I don't know what to think about that. How can you be a killer and then a hero? Not that I like calling them killers but really that's what they are. But now they're heroes? Does doing one good thing cancel out the bad thing? Maybe they wont send them to prison. I don't even know if they were going to send them in the first place. They are still teenagers. Maybe they'll let them off because they're kids. Maybe they wont have to do anything, not if Johnny doesn't get better. I wonder how bad he really is. I hope he gets better. I never knew anybody to die before. I don't think I'd want to. Especially not somebody so young.

Mom has the afternoon off and wants me to go out with her. Maybe she wants to distract me from what's going on, but really I think she's trying to distract herself. I think she really loves a couple of my brother's friends. It kills her when stuff goes wrong with them but she's not going to interfere unless she has to. She doesn't have to.

****

LATER

Mom took me to the store so that we could do some shopping. Neither of us bought anything. I know we don't have much money so I never ask. If she offers to buy something then I know it's okay to get it, but I feel guilty taking money that isn't mine. The second I'm old enough to work I'll be getting myself a real cool job, one where I work around a lot of boys. I'll probably be a waitress at one of those places my brother hangs out. Things look pretty crazy down there and there are always a bunch of boys getting into real fights and scrapes but they're always complementing the girls, whistling to them and calling them names like "toots" and "sweetheart" and "babe". Some of the girls don't seem to like it. I can't see why. Maybe they think they're too old for those boys.

We did buy some lunch though and ate it at a bench in the park. Sometimes I forget how much fun just spending time with my mom can be. She really does love us, I know that. And she's funny too. I wonder if my brother got any of his sense of humor from our dad or if it all comes from our mother. I don't think much about my dad. It's easier not to. I don't know much about him and really I don't care to. Sometimes I do wish that he would come back just once so that I can tell him how much I hate him. But that wouldn't do any good. Mom has told me a few times that even though I might not believe this, things are actually nicer without my dad around. Things would have been a lot worse with him here. I can believe it, I just don't understand what was so bad about him. From what I remember he wasn't bad, he just wasn't good either. I don't think he wanted much to do with us while he was living with us. Doesn't matter though, I don't care, not anymore. We do okay on our own.

We didn't talk much about any of the stuff going on with the fire yesterday and Johnny being in the hospital and such. I don't know that she could have. I tried to ask her about it but she just told me not to worry and changed the subject. I wonder what she really thinks about it. Is she sad, scared or worried? Instead she ended up doing this thing that we used to do for fun when I was little, where we watch people from across the park and try and make up what they're saying. She had me laughing something crazy for awhile but now I don't remember most of it. It was like the second I got home I remembered everything else again. She had to go to work and I'm alone now. I hate being alone when I feel like this, like I'm empty. Empty because I don't know how to feel. I guess I shouldn't care so much since they aren't my friends but for some reason I do. I would be easier if I could talk to somebody about ANYTHING but there is no one else around and the TV can't distract me from my thoughts.

****

AFTER SUPPER

My brother came home for a while and the second he walked in the door I went up to him, holding the newspaper in my hands.

"What is this?" I demanded, shoving it in his face.

"Well it's black and white but I don't think it's a zebra."

I shoved the paper in his face. "Look!"

"Oh hey would you look at that… What's it to you?"

"Look at HIS hair!"

He didn't even take the paper before he burst out laughing, patting me on the head as he did.

"Well weren't you and Ponyboy just made for each other. Both of you gone and tried to bleach your hair out. I guess he got a little bit further than you but you know what they say, simple minds think alike!"

I was less than pleased with this. "I guess you didn't tell Ponyboy that he's going die from it, did you?"

"Not yet."

"That's okay," I said, moving towards the front door. "I'll just go tell him myself that he's going to die, or at least that his hair is going to fall out."

He yanked on my pigtail a little too roughly and pulled me back. "You say anything to him and I swear I'll scalp you so bad you'll wish you had been killed by peroxide." I didn't understand his sudden mood shift and it kind of scared me that he could turn so mean suddenly, especially since I was just kidding, but I didn't say anything else about it.

Pretty soon he was back to his usual self and he went off to get himself ready for the rumble. I don't see the point of showering when you're just going to go out and fight someone and get a lot dirtier than you started off but he seems to think it's necessary. While he was getting ready I called to him.

"Are you sure I can't come?"

"Yes I'm sure."

"I'm all alone here."

"Want me to call you a babysitter?"

"No. I'm old enough to baby-sit somebody else now."

"Then why don't you go do some babysitting and make some money? Goodness knows you spend enough time sitting around here all day. It's about time you starting contributing to this family."

"And what do you do?"

He popped his head out the bathroom door. "See that candy bar you're eating?"

"Yeah."

"I got that."

I rolled my eyes. "Somebody ought to give you a metal."

He laughed. "It ain't me they're going to give a metal to."

"You're friends though?" I figured that's what he meant. I had to ask, "Are they okay."

He was quiet for a minute. Then finally he said, "Sure." I couldn't tell if he was lying or not.

I got quiet then. Suddenly he came running out of the bathroom, put his arms around my waist and pulled me off of the couch.

"You worried about Johnny now too?" he asked happily.

"I'm just wondering."

"First Pony, then Soda, now Johnny! You really do get around, don't you kid? Next thing you know it will be Steve, and then god forbid, Darry!"

"I never said - what do you mean Ponyboy?"

He tossed me down on the couch and grinned, repeating what I had said. "'What do you mean Ponyboy?' You know what I mean."

I didn't know what he meant and I wanted him to know that I do NOT like Ponyboy but he wouldn't listen. Everytime I tried to tell him that he would just go "No!" or "Sure, sure," and I couldn't make him believe differently.

I begged him to let me go to the rumble but he wouldn't give in. Finally, when he was just about out the door he turned to me, "Look, when the rumble's over I'll come home and let you know how it went, alright?"

I nodded. "Alright." It isn't' as good as going to the rumble but I think he looked kind of sorry when he left me, so I'll give him that much.

****

I DON'T KNOW THE TIME

Two-Bit didn't come home right after the rumble. I waited and waited for him and finally he got here, just before Mom did. I asked him how it went but he didn't say anything. I guess the Greasers lost. I didn't know this meant that much to him. He looks too sad about it. Now I feel kind of sorry.


	11. Tuesday II

A/N: I know, very short chapter. A longer one is coming up in a bit though. Thanks for reading!

**Tuesday September 20th, 1966**

I don't even know what to think. It's as though a little piece of the world is over. I know I said that I felt empty before but now I know that I've never felt as empty as I do now. Maybe it's not empty. Mom says she thinks I'm numb. I can't even think about things. School's been a blur. I can't really concentrate, and I can't believe what's happened. But worse than that, I'm jealous. Jealous because it wasn't my friends that died, but because they were my brother's. I'm jealous because he has a reason to feel sad. Why should I be sad? I hardly knew the guys. Sure Johnny's been around awhile but I never would have had half a chance at being around Dally. He scared me too much. But now I wish he was here. I wish he could be standing on my steps with my brother again, talking about Ponyboy and Johnny hiding out. And I guess to me Johnny will always be hiding out. I never got to see him in the hospital, never got to see him after last week when we passed on the street. I feel so bad about everything, but mostly I fell bad because I wish that I could really mourn. Two-Bit gets to feel sad, he gets to be upset because he has a reason. I don't have one, so I'm afraid to feel, afraid to cry, because I know that if I do I will look silly. I have to go for a walk now. That's all I've done these last couple of days besides school. It's the only way to feel anything about this. If I keep walking then everything has to keep going, but if I stop and sit in my bedroom then all I can do is think about this, and that's hard seeing as I don't really understand what happened. I know it, but I don't understand. How could two people so young die? It isn't fair.


End file.
